


I'm here...

by HariWrites



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, F/M, Platonic Marichat - Freeform, Self-Doubt, Supportive Chat Noir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 14:26:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17551406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HariWrites/pseuds/HariWrites
Summary: Marinette has lost faith in herself but she has a friend in Chat Noir.





	I'm here...

**Author's Note:**

> This was prompted by a conversation with [LdyFcknNoir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LdyFcknNoir) and an ongoing battle I'm having with my own self-doubt. I thought some of you might relate.

She stared at the design in front of her and the lines blurred until the image disappeared. Tears dropped onto the paper and she couldn’t bring herself to care.

She was drowning.

In work. In being a superhero. In trying to be a good friend and daughter.

Every day of her life, she used every ounce of energy and effort in trying to be good enough, and she was failing. She was no closer to defeating Hawk Moth; if anything, he was getting stronger. It was a constant struggle to get her designs recognised, and there were so many more talented and popular emerging designers out there. She gave so much of herself to those parts of her life that she knew she was withdrawing from friends and family, too concerned that exhaustion and anxiety would cause her to say something she’d regret.

Instead, every night, she’d create until she was either too tired to continue, or the weight of her inner critic crushed her.

Blinking away her tears, she tried to focus on her work. It was bad. Uninspired, clumsy, rough, and the best she could do. Marinette was so deep in self-loathing that she didn’t hear the clumping of boots on her roof. She didn’t hear the roof hatch open.

Until strong, leather-clad arms wrapped around her, she hadn’t noticed his presence. Now that she did, she let the tears come. With his support and comfort surrounding her, she convulsed with sobs. He wouldn’t judge her; he never did. He just held her, soothed her and told her she was worthy. Sometimes, he didn’t speak. He simply let her rant and rail against all the ways she doubted herself. Tonight, he wanted to talk.

“Marinette? I’m worried about you,” he said, brow creased into a frown.

“I’m fine.”

His laugh was bitter. “You’re the opposite of fine, Princess. You push yourself constantly and you’re so hard on yourself. I’m concerned that you’re close to breaking point. Talk to me.”

She sniffed and attempted to dry her face with the edge of her sleeve.

“I’m not good enough, Chat. I love to design, but it’s time to accept that my talent is limited and I’ll never reach the standards I aspire to. I see other people’s designs and they’re flawless. I hear the praise they receive and I know I’ll never hear that for my work. I see how other designers are hero-worshipped and all it does is remind me that I will never be that respected or adored. I’m not good enough.”

Tears flowed freely again and his arms tightened around her.

“Mari? You _are_ good enough. You have to believe in yourself, though. I know you're capable of great things, but if you continue to hate yourself, you’ll never allow yourself to get there. Should you speak to your friends about this?

“No,” she shook her head vigorously. “I tried once, but they suggested I take a break from designing.”

She saw the confusion on his face, weighing up the pros and cons of that option. Sure, taking a break might take the pressure off, but designing was part of her –like breathing– and she knew that to stop, even for a week, would be like death.

“I can’t do that.” She attempted to explain, “if I don’t design, I have nothing left to make me worthwhile.”

He scooped her into his arms and carried her away from her desk and lay her on her chaise. Wrapping a blanket around her, he sat on the floor and rested his head on her shoulder. He stroked her hair while he whispered soft words through her whimpers.

Eventually, she cried herself out. Her throat hoarse and eyes swollen, she felt sleep begin to creep over her body.

“I’m sorry this is happening to you Mari,” Chat said, still running his claws through her hair. “I think it’s easy to get comfortable in assuming that strong people, like you, know their worth. In fact, a lot of the time it's opposite.”

“Thank you.”

Her voice was muffled by blankets and fatigue.

“I’m here, for as long as it takes for you to see yourself through my eyes, Princess. As a capable, creative, feisty woman. An everyday Ladybug.”

Those words washed over her and Marinette finally succumbed to an uneasy sleep, unaware that Chat stayed by her side until the golden morning sun shone through her bedroom window.


End file.
